She asked me about her dad and me—how we met, why we broke up. She said he always told her the biggest problem was that I didn’t like his friends. I admitted that was partly true and that I knew I was wrong. I’d realized after the fact that I regretted resenting his friends and his soccer playing. I think I resented anything—his work included—that took him away from me and the kids. He had his part, too, like staying out all night with the boys in the band after a recording session. As it became a regular occurrence, I became angrier because it was so different from the way things had been in the beginning. We’d been so wrapped up in each other, so madly in love in the first couple of years of our relationship, and when it began to slowly change, I desperately tried to hold on to what it had been.
Now, of course, I know that’s never possible. Relationships always evolve and change. But I didn’t understand that at the time; neither of us did. We were just both immature and stubborn.
This conversation was the first time Kimberly and I had ever talked so intimately. I feel like we’re starting to have a closer relationship, which is what I’ve prayed for, for a long time. I love my daughter so much. She can certainly be difficult, but she’s getting more open and understanding, and I really want to try to make up for whatever I didn’t or couldn’t do when she was younger.
It’s strange how things happen for the better when you least expect them. That a new relationship with my daughter should emerge in the midst of all this hell and chaos. I am learning so much about myself, about how if you open your heart, God heals it in wonderful ways. Had I not been here with Farrah, Kim and I never would have had this time together to talk and reconnect.
Maybe I’m also a changed person these days. A little sadder, yes, but a little wiser. A little more appreciative of what really matters in life. I feel like this experience of putting someone’s needs before my own has spilled over into other areas of my life as well. Once you start to be a more giving person, it feels good, it feels right. People think that when you give, you deplete yourself. But I know now that it’s the opposite; the more you give, the more you get in return.
July 2, 2008
Well, we’re finally leaving tomorrow. Farrah’s much better today. I’m a little nervous about the flight home. I just hope she’s not leaving too soon, like the time before, when she insisted on leaving five days after laser surgery on her liver. It was a horrendous trip home, and I don’t ever want to go through that again, for her sake or mine.
Dr. Jacob said she’s thrilled with the results of Farrah’s treatment, that Farrah has made remarkable progress in these five weeks. She even went so far as to say that she considers Farrah in partial remission. This is unbelievable. Now, if things start to go more smoothly, and God forbid no more setbacks, she can go home and continue to get stronger.
July 3, 2008
We’re on the plane back to Los Angeles. Farrah’s sleeping in the seat next to me. She could barely get herself together at the clinic to make it onto the plane—her usual packing chaos. Fortunately, I’d lied to her about the time (I don’t know why I didn’t try that sooner), and there wasn’t horrible traffic, so we made the plane in good time. I knew in my heart that she should have waited a few more days, but she was hell-bent and determined to get home. I told her if she threw up all the way home that she wouldn’t have to worry about dying, because I would kill her!
She was just starting to feel very nauseated and in a lot of pain, so I gave her the pain shot that Dr. Jacob had given me. It did the trick. Please, God, just let us get to L.A. without any problems, get through customs, get in the car, and get home. They’ll have a wheelchair at the plane, and with luck there will be no paparazzi.
We arrived in Los Angeles without any incidents. Not even any paparazzi. We stopped at our favorite Starbucks by the airport and I got us chai teas, and then we dropped Farrah off and Benny took me to the house. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see my dogs.
July 4, 2008
I celebrated the Fourth of July by doing absolutely nothing. I was so jet-lagged that all I wanted to do was to be home with the dogs and Fox News. Farrah and Ryan didn’t go to the beach. The nurse that I had arranged for with Dr. Piro has been there helping her. I’m trying to unpack a little at a time and make some headway with the stacks of mail.
July 6, 2008
Farrah said she was craving smothered chicken and black-eyed peas and it sounded so good that I decided to cook a southern meal like we had when we were growing up in Texas. I asked Sean and Ashley to come to dinner by themselves because I wanted to talk to them. I decided to tell them about the cancer episode before Rod told Sean, if he hadn’t already. Rod knows because apparently Kimberly was in Harrods with him when she found out and she burst into tears.
Anyway, I feel like it was a wake-up call for all of us to be closer and to realize how important family is. I cooked the entire meal in two hours: smothered chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, broccoli, cornbread, and peach cobbler—almost as good as Mama used to make.
After dinner, I took Ashley and Sean into my bedroom. Sean asked me if I was “dying or something.” He said it sort of jokingly, but obviously his father had already opened his mouth. I prefaced it by saying that I was okay and didn’t want to scare them, but after thinking a lot about it, I thought they should know. I said that I hoped we could all be closer and spend more time together as a family, and that it was important to love and support one another because you never know what’s going to happen in life.
Ash was visibly shaken. Sean said his dad had already told him, which I figured. I’m glad we talked. I want to spend more time with my kids and I want them to be more supportive and loving with one another. Being with Farrah this past year and seeing all she’s gone through has made me realize how much time I spend rushing through life. I know my kids do, too. Maybe we all do these days. But it’s time for me to slow down and really appreciate the love I have in my life.
July 18, 2008
I just meditated on an amazing page in A Course in Miracles. The title of the lesson is “I will be still an instant and go home.” The part that stood out so clearly was about how there is this child inside each of us who is seeking comfort, but it won’t be found in the outer world. We must go inside, be still, let the world recede from our minds, let valueless ideas spinning in our heads be quiet, and hear His voice. In that instant, we will be at home, our true home, “in perfect peace, beyond all words, untouched by fear and doubt, sublimely certain that we are home.” I realized that this is what I’ve been searching for. I’m deeply exhausted and depleted—mentally, physically, emotionally—and I desperately wish I had someone to just put their arms around me and tell me everything will be okay.
Farrah and I were talking about that yesterday: a deep philosophical conversation. I said how nice it would be to have a man take care of me for a change. How a nice, boring, stable man suddenly looks so attractive to me at this point in my life. But maybe it doesn’t ever come from a man? Or maybe, I told her, it can only come from a higher source. From going inside and connecting with that sense of peace and joy and power inside of us.
All I know is that I felt this deep, deep sense of letting go. I felt this golden light wash over me, and I felt a sense of comfort and peace that I’ve never felt before. I felt as if someone were actually cradling me and telling me I’m safe. I felt such a sense of well-being. I’ve searched for this feeling in everything: men, drugs, spiritual pursuits. I’d go anywhere to try to get it, even if only momentarily, and I just felt it so deeply, with such an intensity.
Will it last? I don’t know. But I know I feel like my tank has been filled. I feel like I can go to London, be there for Kimberly, do whatever I need to do to take care of my own life, without feeling so deeply, desperately depleted. Without feeling like I’m running on empty.
I have to remember that this is the place I must go; that it’s always available to me. I don’t need to continue looking for it in all t
he wrong places.
August 29, 2008
I got up at six thirty this morning to come out to the City of Hope with Farrah and Ryan. She’s starting a new clinical trial treatment today with Dr. Forman. It’s called the IT-101 and everyone feels very hopeful and optimistic about it. The actual trial itself was completed a couple of years ago by about twenty people, but no results have been released yet because it’s not FDA approved and I guess they have to wait a certain amount of time. The doctor had to get special permission to do it now with her. She’s spent the last six weeks waiting to get cleared for this trial, and during this time she hasn’t been able to take any of her anticancer medications from Germany. Apparently they might interfere with this new treatment.
It’s 4:30 P.M. and I’ve come downstairs to get some tea and some fresh air. Farrah is having the chemo infusion now, which takes six hours altogether, so we probably won’t be leaving here until seven or eight. I’m exhausted, but I’m glad I came. I’ve been filming most of the day and I think I got some great footage. This film is probably going to be difficult for people to watch at times. Like today, when it took almost an hour for the nurse to get the needle into one of Farrah’s veins because they’re all so shot from chemo and IVs during the last two years. It was excruciatingly painful for her and so hard to watch her go through it. She’s so brave.
September 26, 2008
Yesterday I picked Farrah up at 8 A.M. to drive to the City of Hope for her third treatment of chemo in this trial. It was a long, grueling day for her. Nothing seemed to go smoothly. As usual, they couldn’t find a vein for the IV line. After numerous tries by two different nurses, they were finally successful, but then the doctor had to wait for her blood results before he could write up the order for the chemo. We didn’t leave there until almost ten o’clock at night. I don’t know how she gets through it. I was completely exhausted.
I think I don’t allow myself to fully accept that she’s truly fighting for her life, and if this trial doesn’t work, there may not be a next step. I can’t conceive of it; it doesn’t seem possible. She looks so good—you would hardly know she was ill. She’s just the same Farrah I’ve always known; we’re two girlfriends talking about our lives, our children, our clothes. Yet now a lot of our conversation revolves around cancer. She still maintains her sense of humor, though. Today she was joking about filling in the order forms to renew her magazine subscriptions. She said, “You have to check one year, two years, or three years. Hmm. I always wonder which one I should put.” Again, she finds the humor in almost every situation.
As for me, it’s hard for me to believe all this is real. We both said we feel like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing is real and we’re walking through a dream. I wish we would wake up and it would all be gone.
P.S. I have my own medical update. My Pap test came back from UCLA and it’s not normal again. I’m still trying to understand Dr. Rapkin’s very complicated explanation. I have to do a test every four months, and if it goes to the next stage, then I have to have another biopsy. Then, if it turns into cancer, a radical hysterectomy! I can’t quite believe all this is happening again. Of course she said that in only 10 percent of women does it actually turn into cancer. God, I feel like I’m living with a possible time bomb inside me. Maybe I’m being overly dramatic, but just thinking about it terrifies me. So I guess I won’t think about it. I can’t do anything about it now anyway.
September 27, 2008
I was finishing baking my cake to take to the movie tonight at Carole and Bob’s when Farrah called. She could barely speak. She’s been throwing up nonstop since six this morning. I said I’d come right over and take her to the hospital, but as usual she resisted.
“Okay, but I’m going to call Dr. Piro,” I said. When I reached Dr. Piro, I told him she sounded terrible and asked if he would call her right away and then call me back. He said that he told Farrah to dissolve two Ativan under her tongue and that would relax her, put her to sleep, and hopefully stop the vomiting. I tried to reach her afterward, but there was no answer, so I assumed she was already sleeping.
I left for Carole and Bob’s house, but I was worried because I still hadn’t heard from Farrah. I was relieved to see Dr. Piro there, who was a guest for the movie as well. We tried to call her together, but once again there was no answer.
“She’s probably just sleeping,” he said, and I agreed with him. But I still hadn’t heard from her when I went to bed later. I couldn’t sleep; I kept tossing and turning. I was worried out of my mind. I thought about going over there, but the doorman probably wouldn’t have let me up without calling and she wasn’t answering the phone. Maybe I was just being silly. She was probably sleeping soundly. It’s just that I can’t get the memories of my mother out of my head. Many years ago, when I was married to George, I had kept calling and calling her and she didn’t answer. I just assumed she’d turned off her phone as she usually did when she wanted to sleep and didn’t want to be bothered. But that wasn’t the case this time. She died of an overdose of drugs, and I wasn’t there to save her.
Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep, making sure I’d left the phone right next to my bed.
September 28, 2008
Farrah finally called this morning. She had been up and down all night throwing up. She was still weak, but finally the vomiting had stopped. I told her she can’t stay in that apartment alone like this. Someone has to be there with her. She’s so independent and doesn’t think she needs it, but I see it differently.
September 30, 2008
I took Ashley to Il Sole for his birthday. He brought three of his friends and it was a really lovely, quiet evening. It’s wonderful to see him sober and looking so good and seemingly in a good place. I guess I’ll always worry about him after all the years when he was using. I noticed he had started smoking again, and that scares me, of course.
October 5, 2008
Farrah called tonight. I’ve never heard her sound so low and so hopeless. She said that sometimes she felt like she couldn’t go on, that she didn’t feel like fighting anymore. It was all too much. I can’t blame her. How much can one person take? Two years of painful treatments, life-altering surgeries, and now going through these problems with her son. She told me that she’s afraid Redmond may go to prison. I know how she feels; I’ve been there, too. It’s something we talk about often: our kids. I told her that Sean just went back into rehab and how worried I’ve been about him. At least now, I told her, I can breathe a little easier, knowing he’s safe, even if it’s just for thirty days.
Photographic Insert
This was taken at a party at my house back in 1984. Farrah and I are with my daughter Kimberly and my son Sean.
Here we are at a dinner party I threw at my house for Elton John in 1987. When Elton arrived he turned to me and asked, “Where’s the piano?” to which I replied that I didn’t have one. The next morning, a delivery truck arrived in my driveway with, what else, a baby grand from Elton.
Front row (left to right): Wendy Stark, Suzanne de Passe, me, Farrah, and Tina Sinatra.
Back row (left to right): Bob Halley, David Niven Jr., Ryan O’Neal, and Elton John.
This is from New Year’s Eve 1986, during the last bash at the house I shared with Rod. I was moving out two days later, so I was ready to celebrate a new beginning with my friends.
A quiet dinner out in Malibu with good friends in 1987. From left to right: me, Ryan, Farrah, and Michael Black.
Farrah snuggling up to Ryan at my birthday party in 1989.
Birthdays were always a big deal for us, and we made sure to celebrate the milestones each year. This photo was taken at Farrah’s birthday in 1988 as she tried on one of her presents.
At the Mirabella magazine party, June 1989. From left to right: Jerry and Linda Bruckheimer, Ryan, Farrah, me, and Tina Sinatra.
Alan Carr, Tina Sinatra, Ryan, and Farrah at the home of Tina’s father, Frank Sinatra.
Me, a young Kimberly, and Farrah. Growing up
, my daughter always admired Farrah’s style.
For my birthday in 1989, Suzanne de Passe threw me a party at her house. The theme was country-western, and she served Texas soul food and hired a band to play country tunes.
From left to right: me, Suzanne de Passe, Farrah, and Tina Sinatra.
Farrah truly looks overjoyed here at her birthday in 1991.
Ryan and Farrah have always been the golden couple to me.
For my birthday in 1991, Alan Carr threw me a dinner party at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles. Here I am pictured with the host (far right), Farrah, and Barry Diller (second from the left).
A snapshot of just the girls at my birthday in 1991. From left to right: Dyan Cannon, me, Tina Sinatra, and Farrah.
Farrah with my daughter Kimberly.
Farrah and Ryan ringing in the holidays at my home in 1992.
Laurie Lynn Stark, a friend of ours who owns the store Chrome Hearts, took photos with this big old-fashioned Polaroid. Farrah and I stopped by the showroom and didn’t expect to be photographed—I didn’t have a stitch of makeup on. But I think it looks like we both have attitude.
Courtesy of Laurie Lynn Stark
Almost a week after I found out about Farrah’s diagnosis, Tina Sinatra and I went over to Farrah’s house to see her for the first time. Tina brought Farrah this humongous bear. Despite the chemo, our friend looked radiant and determined to fight.
Mimmo asked us to pose with him in this photo so he could hang it in his restaurant.
My Journey with Farrah Page 13
